


We Just Clicked

by imafriendlydalek



Series: Picture This [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Photographer, Artist Steve Rogers, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, background Happy/Pepper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 20:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5839813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek/pseuds/imafriendlydalek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony and Happy are having lunch when a camera shutter clicks behind him. The photographer behind the lens might be hundred-ish pounds of attitude balled up in a feisty blond package that only goes up to Tony’s chin, but there's something about that defiant look that Tony finds intriguing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Just Clicked

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching a video about street photography and then this happened...
> 
> (I don't know if this is a real class at NYU or not - I just made the number up)

Tony Stark was used to having his picture taken. It was almost impossible to go anywhere without someone snapping a photo of him, be they paparazzi trying to make a quick buck or just people on the street excited to see a famous person.

There were days it bothered him, when he really would prefer to go unnoticed, but for the most part he indulged them. Paparazzi hated it when he turned their game around on them and started posing - what they really wanted was to catch him doing something scandalous like putting on weight - but the curious passersby loved it. The more ridiculous his poses were, the happier they were. So he would roll with it, make a few faces, hug a few ladies, sign stuff for kids, and then move on with his day.

He wasn’t prepared, however, for Steve Rogers. A hundred-ish pounds of attitude balled up in a feisty blond package that went up to Tony’s chin, with a defiant look that could make even Happy crumble and some truly dangerous blue eyes.

Nope, not prepared at all.

***

They’d been out for lunch, Tony and Happy, at one of those cafes in the Village that had outdoor seating. It was a sunny day, warm for early spring, and the waitress had just brought their coffee, so really all was well in Tony’s world. Happy seemed on edge about something, though, looking over his shoulder more than usual and twisting his napkin into knots, and Tony was just about to ask him what was up when there was the sound of a camera shutter clicking just behind him.

Happy shoved his chair backwards, knocking it into the poor woman sitting behind him, who squeaked as her coffee spilled on her previously white blouse, as he leapt to his feet. He leaned over the little divider to grab the guy with the camera by the collar and growled “Delete it, now!”

“No,” the guy growled back, his voice full of a confidence that belied his size.

“Happy Hogan!” Tony shouted, using the commanding tone he usually reserved for useless robots and Board members. “Put the kid down.”

“I’m not a kid,” the guy with the camera muttered when Happy complied, reluctantly. He brushed his t-shirt down and clutched his camera defensively.

“You,” Tony said, pointing at the guy, “stay put. And you,” he pointed at Happy, “sit back down.” He moved around their table to where the woman with the spilled coffee was sitting. “I’m so sorry,” he offered, crouching so that he was at eye level with her and pulling his sunglasses off his face. “Are you okay?”

The woman nodded slowly, recognition setting in. She dabbed at the front of her shirt with a napkin.

“Please, let me take care of the dry cleaning,” Tony offered. “Here’s my card.”

“Thank you,” the woman replied, tucking the card into her purse.

Tony shot her a warm smile before he stood again and returned to his own table.

“I was just taking some detail shots,” the guy shot out as soon as Tony turned his gaze towards him. His jaw was set, his chin stuck out, and he had a determined look on his face that would probably have been a lot more impressive if he weren’t the size of a Chihuahua. “No law against that.”

“Hey, wasn’t even going to argue,” Tony replied, raising his hands at his side. “Just wanted to make sure my overzealous friend here-” he shot a reproachful look at Happy “-didn’t hurt you.”

Happy glared first at Tony, then the kid.

“Uh, no, I’m fine,” he answered, confusion creeping into his voice. “Listen, I didn’t mean to - I just liked the way the light was falling on your hands. Here look,” he held out his camera, scrolling through the photos he had taken and finally holding it out towards Tony to show him the photo in question. “Doesn’t even have your face in it. Just the hands.”

Tony sucked in a sharp breath as he looked at the photo. It really was remarkable. His fingers were curled around the cup, the sun casting sharp shadows between them and glinting brightly off his watch where it peeked out from under his sleeve. The whiteness of the cup contrasted with the darkness of the coffee and his suit jacket, the tiny bit of motor grease still under his thumbnail.

Pepper had dragged Tony to countless art shows over the years, but this one really appealed to Tony in ways that no other piece of art had. He could hear Pepper’s voice in the back of his head: “Because it has your two favorite things - coffee, and you.”

“That’s, wow. Well then. You an art student over at NYU or something? This a project for Photography 101?”

The guy narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “No, Photography 342, and I _teach_ the class, actually.” 

There was challenge in that tone, and it was doing something funny to Tony’s insides.

Tony tilted his head to the side and looked him over with an appreciative glance. “Really? What are you, like twenty-two?”

“Twenty-nine, actually,” the guy shot back. “Not that it’s any of your business. Can I go now?”

Tony couldn’t help a chuckle. “Yeah, sure,” he said, waving his hand to signal that the guy was free to leave. “Sorry again about this guy.” He turned his hand mid-air to point at Happy.

“No harm done,” the guy said, his voice friendly again. “Have a nice day!”

The guy had disappeared into the crowd before Tony had the chance to reply, much less to ask for his name. For art, he told himself. Pepper would love to see his work. Definitely not because there was something about his “come here world, I’ll fight you” attitude that Tony found captivating.

He watched the throngs of people moving past the cafe for a moment, hoping to maybe catch another glimpse of the guy, but he was short enough to blend in, apparently. So Tony sat down with a quiet sigh and then turned his attention to Happy.

“Alright, explain yourself,” he prompted.

“You deserve one afternoon without people trying to take your picture, boss.”

Tony threw his hands up in exasperation. “Happy, like twenty people have taken my picture in the last ten minutes. If I’d wanted to go unnoticed, we would have sat inside.”

Happy just looked down at his knotted napkin and frowned.

“Alright, what is it _really_?” Tony reached out with his foot to nudge Happy lightly in the shin.

“I, uh, I want to ask Pepper to marry me,” Happy finally admitted.

Tony felt a smile spread over his face. He reached across the table to take Happy’s poor mistreated napkin and set it down on the table. “That’s great, Happy. No reason to be frowny. You guys are great together, and I bet you’ll have lots of happy little children.” He couldn’t resist laughing at his joke.

“You think so, boss?” Happy looked up expectantly. “You really think I can make her happy in the long run?”

Tony exhaled, a long sigh. “I think I’m not the person to ask that sort of thing. Look at my track record. But I think any relationship is just about giving it your very best try.”

“So you think I should do it? I should ask her?”

“I think sometimes you gotta face your inhibitions, if it’s something worth fighting for, and hope for the best.” Tony couldn’t help but think of those defiant blue eyes, the way the guy had looked like he was ready to take on Happy for the right to keep his photo.

Happy smiled in relief and started talking about how he planned to ask Pepper, and where he hoped they could get married, but Tony was only half listening. His mind was elsewhere.

***

Finding out who the guy with the camera was was child’s play, really. A quick search for the photography class he had admitted to teaching brought up not only his name - Steve Rogers - but also a link to his photography website, which included samples and a short bio. Tony was slightly surprised to learn that he had actually been embedded as a photojournalist in Afghanistan for a few months - he’d looked like a strong gust of wind would knock him over, never mind the heat blast from a missile launcher.

It wasn’t weird for Tony to pay a visit to NYU, he decided - the Maria Stark Foundation paid for a number of scholarships there, after all. Okay, they were mostly in the computer science and engineering departments, but who was counting? Rogers’ class was one of the smaller ones where it would have gone noticed immediately if Tony had snuck in, so he opted instead to wait outside for class to end. At least the coffee was pretty good at Tisch.

He stood up and wandered over toward the door to the classroom as students began to pour out. A few did double-takes when they recognized him, but for the most part they were too wrapped up in their conversations or getting to their next class to notice as Tony slipped inside.

Rogers was in the process of packing up his laptop, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tucked away cords. A girl was hovering just behind him, talking his ear off about an exhibit at the ICP. It was pretty amusing to watch her somewhat desperate advances roll right off of Rogers unnoticed. She was suggesting they head there together sometime, maybe this weekend?, as he picked up his camera to put it in his bag without a response.

“There’s also a new show opening at MoMA on Friday,” Tony interjected.

Both heads snapped up when he spoke - the girl’s eyes narrowed at him menacingly, then widened when she recognized him. A smile of gratitude spread over Rogers’ face.

“Not exactly open to the general public,” he said, shoving a hand in his pocket as he heaved his bag over his shoulder. He gestured towards the door for the girl and Tony to head out ahead of him.

Tony shrugged. “I might know some people who know some people who sponsored the thing.”

There was an easy smile on Rogers’ face as he peered back at him and a chuckle in his voice when he replied, “I bet you do.”

“Could probably scrounge up two tickets. If you’d like to come with me.”

Rogers smiled as he locked the door to the classroom.

The girl was busy staring daggers at Tony.

“We haven’t even been introduced yet, formally.”

Tony barked out a laugh. “Tony,” he offered, stretching his hand out towards Rogers, who accepted it with a smile.

“Steve. Ya know, I might have to make you buy me coffee before I agree to anything. And also insist that you leave your big burly friend at home this time,” he added with a smirk.

“Deal. I happen to know a nice cafe around here. Outdoor seating and everything…”


End file.
